


No Apologies

by myriddin



Series: No Apologies [1]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, Secret Relationship, Sexual Content, Sneaking Around
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-25
Updated: 2015-12-25
Packaged: 2018-05-09 04:54:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,594
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5526095
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/myriddin/pseuds/myriddin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Cousins Jon and Sansa Stark know their love is forbidden, but their bond is too strong to deny.</p>
            </blockquote>





	No Apologies

It had started raining unexpectedly that afternoon when Sansa returned to the Stark manor after classes, making it inside just before the full downpour began. After changing into something more comfortable (and dry), she gathered up her books and made her way to the kitchen, where she set up camp at the breakfast bar.

Knowing not to expect her father back from the office until dinner and that her mother was occupied with her brothers' extracurriculars (and only Seven knew where Arya was), it was no surprise to Sansa that Jon was the next one home. She clamped a hand over her mouth to stifle her laughter when he appeared in the doorway, soaked through to the bone, his face so downcast and miserable he more resembled a pouting puppy than a grown man.

Finding his petulant expression adorable, Sansa shook her head and smiled. "Try not to drip too much on the floor. I'll go get you a towel."

She returned a few moments later with the aforementioned towel and a pair of his sweats, receiving a murmur of gratitude as he disappeared into the laundry room. She was filling the kettle with water, figuring he'd appreciate hot tea, when he returned dressed in the sweatpants and a damp-spotted tank. He slid into one of the stools, glancing at the textbooks spread out on the island, before looking back up at her.

"Isn't that my shirt?"

Sansa shrugged, though the gesture only served to cement Jon's suspicions when the shirt, which was far too large on her, slipped down her shoulder and left bare an expanse of smooth, creamy skin. He sidled up behind her, pressing his lips to the exposed flesh. Sansa shivered in response, leaning back against him as his hands cupped her hips.

"Mm, maybe it is, maybe it isn't."

Jon chuckled, beginning a path of slow, open-mouthed kisses up her neck. Tracing his tongue along the elegant line of her throat, and he was rewarded by another series of shudders. "Now that I think about it, I'm pretty sure those are my shorts too."

"Are they?"

"Hmm-mm." He slid his hands down to the waistline of the drawstring shorts, brushing teasingly against the knot holding them closed.

"Why don't you take them back then?" She challenged, gasping as he caught her earlobe between his teeth. She tilted her head back in search of a kiss. He denied her first attempt, and only allowed the barest graze on her second before he pulled away, his questing fingers loosening the shorts' ties just enough to dip below the hem.

The moment he realized she wasn't wearing underwear was announced by a deep, guttural groan and an instinctive buck of his hips. Sansa pushed against him in reply, feeling his quickly-rising response against her backside. "Jon." She reached back to tangle her fingers in his hair as he mouthed at the sensitive spot beneath her ear. "Kiss me."

The second he paused was a second too long and she made the decision for him, tugging on his hair to draw him close.

They flew apart like shrapnel the moment the front door slammed. Ned came in a moment later, loosening his tie and tossing his briefcase onto a nearby chair. "What a day."

He looked around the kitchen, his daughter giving him a distracted smile as she gathered up her books and papers, his nephew leaning against the counter with his face turned away ( _was he blushing?)._ He was distracted from wondering about Jon's peculiar behavior when Sansa approached him, kissing his cheek in greeting. Ned instantly softened, greeting her with a warm hug as she beamed up at him.

"You're home early, Dad."

"Hmm, yes. We finished up early, so I decided to call it a day. The whole thing was such a headache, I thought I deserved the break."

Sansa giggled, leaning up to give him another peck. "I think you deserve it. I'm going to take my homework upstairs now that people are coming home. See you at supper?"

"You bet." He patted her shoulder and distracted by slipping off his blazer, he missed the look that passed between the other two in the room, Sansa's mostly amused as she looked pointedly at where Jon was pressed against the island divider, high enough to be just above waist-level. He narrowed his eyes at her as she passed, earning an over-exaggerated fluttering of her eyelashes. Jon rolled his eyes, concentrating on cooling himself down.

"Jon? How long has that been heating up?"

Jon's eyes bugged at his uncle's unintentional double entendre, to a situation he wasn't even aware he had interrupted. "Um, what?"

"The kettle. It's whistling. Don't you think you should take it off the burner?"

Jon coughed, mentally shaking himself as he moved to do just that. "Right. You know, Uncle Ned, I changed my mind about the tea. I think I'm just going to go read awhile. See you at dinner?"

"Of course…" was the only reply Ned could muster as Jon scurried away, leaving the lawyer to stare puzzled at the empty doorway.

It was only a moment later that Jon found Sansa lingering in the hall, the cat-caught-the-canary expression on her face making it obvious she had heard every word. "You are in so much trouble," he growled, slowly advancing on her.

She backed up at step, giving him a coy look. "You mean I'm in trouble, or I _am_ trouble?"

"Both," he grumbled.

"Yeah, well, trouble or not, I'm pretty sure we just bought ourselves a couple of free hours."

She watched the annoyed look in his eyes slowly shift as realization set in, replaced by a glimmer of mischief that gave her only a second of warning before he suddenly lunged at her. She slipped out of his grasp, and flashed him a teasing smile before racing up the stairs, making sure not to stomp so not to draw Ned's attention.

Sansa's bedroom was the first in their path and they ducked inside. Jon closed the door behind him, securing the lock. "You know," he said matter-of-factly, "If we keep being so obvious we're certain to be found out in no time."

"Jon," she said softly, slipping her arms around his neck, "you worry too much."

He sighed, "I know. I just can't help thinking..."

"Then don't think about it. We'll deal when the time comes," she answered, her voice low as she kissed his neck, continuing upward to nibble on his earlobe. "Besides, there're other things I'd rather you have on your mind."

"Mmm," was his only response as he let the matter go, lowering his head to seek her lips.

His hands slipped just under the hem of her shirt, caressing the soft skin of her lower back. She let out a low moan and he skimmed them higher, the rough and calloused quality to his skin feeling wonderfully sensual against her smooth flesh. With a gentle urge of his hands, she raised her arms above her head, allowing him to pull off her top. He took a step back, just giving himself a moment to look at her. The love and desire in his eyes, the reverence in his expression, was enough to take her breath away. She backed her way toward the bed, never taking her eyes off of his, and quickly lay back. She reached for him and he came to her, as if drawn in by a spell. And he was, ensnared by her in every possible way, drawn in by a web of magic that was hers alone.

"You're beautiful," he whispered, crawling up the blankets to settle himself over her. She pushed up the hem of his tank, eager to feel his bare skin. He shrugged it off, returning to her embrace and he kissed her, his lips sliding over hers in a sweet seduction of the senses.

They rolled over and Sansa straddled him, running her hands down his chest and stomach, tracing over the shape and definition of the lean muscles she knew with a thrilling fluency. She scattered kisses wherever she touched, looking up at him briefly with a glint of mischief. She slipped her hands lower, into the depths of his sweats, and Jon let out a low groan as she found his sex, fingers wrapping firmly around him.

She stroked him, giving him a knowing squeeze, earning another hoarse groan from deep in his throat. He took her hands in his, tucking them behind his neck, and he rolled them both over, pinning her beneath him. "My turn," he growled.

He kissed her again, full and deep as his tongue swept into her mouth and teased until she was mewling against his lips. It took all his willpower to tear his mouth away, intent on exploring the rest of her. He nuzzled her neck, nibbling at a spot just below her collarbone, before making his way down to the valley between her breasts. His palm cupped one soft swell, his lips closing over the nipple of the other. He was gentle as he suckled and massaged, urged on by her soft sounds of enjoyment. His ministrations sent sparks of sensation straight to her center and she arched into him with a whine, desperate for friction.

Never one to deny her, Jon raised his eyes to hers, sliding his hands down to the hem of her bottoms. She gave him a languid smile, face flushed with pleasure as she gave him a nod of silent permission.

He unlaced the ties of the borrowed shorts, drawing them down along with her panties to expose smooth, slender legs. His lips skimmed hot, wet kisses over her ribs and down the curve of her belly, his tongue dipping into the hollow of her navel.

There was no need for words. Every moan and sigh, every caress and kiss was a conversation of its own. His hand moved between her legs to cup her, and Jon groaned at the sweet dampness he found there. Her contented sigh became a throaty moan when the heel of his palm pressed against her clit. Her hips jolted up as Jon sank his teeth into her hipbone, sliding two fingers firmly inside her.

He built up her pleasure with a finesse only a familar lover could possess. He leaned over her to reach her mouth, his thigh sliding up to press between hers, grinding against her center with every thrust. She mewled with every press of hard muscle against her clit, the pressure escalating until there was nothing left but to soar.

Her climax broke over her in a sweeping wave of ecstasy, her mouth falling open in a long, soundless cry. Jon gently worked her down, allowing her to sink, sated and boneless, into the shelter of his arms.

Panting, Sansa opened her eyes to see him hovering above her. His expression was soft and open as he gazed down at her, gently brushing the hair away from her face. She lifted a hand to stroke his cheek, taking in the tension in his face, the sweat beading against his forehead, the hunger glittering in his eyes. Knowing what he needed, she reached between them and tugged down his pants. Jon lifted himself enough to hike them off, quickly returning to her to settle between her thighs. He leaned down, kissed her forehead, her eyes, her cheeks, lingering on her lips. "I love you."

She smiled, running her hands up his back to link them around his neck, "I love you, too." She moved against him with purpose, kissed him hard on the mouth. "Now, Jon, please."

Jon lifted up, reaching down to align himself, when there was a sudden (and wholly unwelcome) knock on the door.

"Dammit," he groaned, albeit quietly, reluctantly rolling off of her. Sansa smiled wanly, equally as disappointed herself. She made her way to the closet, grabbing her robe. Jon grumbled uncomfortably as he stepped into and pulled up his pants, wincing at the sudden strain in his lower region. She gave him a look, chiding him for the sound.

"Who is it?" she called.

"It's Mom."

Jon winced as his aunt's voice filtered through the door. He stifled a sigh, mournfully looking down at his wilting erection.

_We have the worst luck, don't we? Goodbye, my friend._

Sansa cleared her throat. "Mom, do you need something?"

"It's five o'clock, honey. How are you doing with getting ready?"

Sansa shared a puzzled glance with her lover. "Get ready for what?"

There was a pregnant pause and then her mother continued speaking. "The party tonight for your father's firm. Did you forget?"

'Tonight?' Sansa mouthed to Jon, her expression blanketed with confusion. He shrugged, just as clueless. She rolled her eyes and huffed, and he smiled wanly in response, echoing the sentiment. She bit her lip in thought for a moment before her eyes widened in realization. _The Baratheon benefit_. The same benefit her mother had been planning to pull Rickon and Bran out of school early to prepare for, scheduling barber's appointments for them both, appointments that wouldn't have lasted as long as football practice and piano lessons usually would. Sansa could have smacked herself for not remembering.

She leaned in to Jon, intending to give him a quick parting peck, but as always, the spark between them was quick to ignite. The kiss grew hot and deep with abandon. Sansa found herself pulling at his hair, scratching her nails against his scalp, desperate to have him closer. There were little sounds of pleasure she tried to quiet, and with every small moan she made, Jon's ego swelled along with the burgeoning erection pressed between them.

_Welcome back, buddy._

Muffling a groan of his own, he cupped her backside in his hands, pushing her flush against him. Her legs parted to welcome him, his hips slotting between her thighs. She rolled her hips into his, mewling with need, and Jon let out a low growl, thrusting up against her.

A sharp rap at the bedroom door interrupted them once more. "Sansa, are you alright?"

Sansa abruptly broke the kiss, the lovers staring wide-eyed at each other for a long moment before she was frantically shooing Jon toward the adjoining bathroom she shared with Arya, his only hope of exit beside the second-story window. She tossed him the towel she'd had draped over her computer chair as a last-minute alibi, receiving a nod of thanks before he disappeared through the door.

Sana smoothed down her hair to the best of her ability, opened the door, and faced the concerned Catelyn with a weak smile. "Of course I didn't forget. Where do you want to start?"

xx

This may just end up being the longest night of his life.

Jon fidgeted uncomfortably, tugging at the collar he was certain was part of a conspiracy to kill him. If not by strangulation, then just by the utter discomfort of the damn thing. In the corner of his mind, he wondered if any of the family had possibly caught wind of his and Sansa's relationship, and decided on an unconventional method of getting him out of the way.

Jon shook his head, determined to do away with the ridiculous thoughts. Stifling a weary sigh, he turned and made a beeline for the open bar.

Despite his serious reluctance to attend that night's event, he struck an impressive figure in his black tie attire. His peak lapel tuxedo was cut trim, his waistcoat snug and slim, to perfectly showcase his lean, muscled frame. With his slicked hair, shining shoes, and polished onyx cufflinks, he appeared the perfect high-society gentleman. Save for his ever-darkening scowl, one that was wiped away from his face as he stopped dead in his tracks and dumbly stared ahead.

He had always known Sansa to be beautiful every day, no matter the circumstance, but tonight, everyday didn't hold a candle to the vision before him.

Her cerulean blue dress stood out brilliantly in the sea of drab and somber. With an open back, and the skirt falling to just above her knees, his eyes were treated to a feast of smooth, silken skin. He couldn't help a smile as he spotted the sling-backs she complained about, but appreciated how they accented those glorious legs he so wanted, and remembered, wrapped around him. He let his gaze travel upward, reminding himself to breathe as he lingered on the dress's front cut, the dip perfectly decent but still giving a teasing hint of the soft swells underneath. Her fiery curls tumbled freely around her shoulders and her eyes were sparkling, her smile dazzling.

Jon swallowed hard, unsuccessful around the sudden lump in his throat. He was the one that smile was directed at, after all.

"Ah, Sansa, Jon, come join us."

Even at his uncle's prompting call, it took all of Jon's willpower to tear his eyes away from her. He turned around, mustering his best smile, and then Sansa appeared at his side. There was that smile again, beautiful and bright in a way that mesmerized you, left you so dazzled you momentarily lost your train of thought. Jon felt her place a hand against his arm, and she turned that dangerous smile on her father and his companion.

"Good evening, Mr. Arryn." She nodded toward her father's mentor and boss, the senior-most partner at Arryn, Royce & Waynwood, one of the most successful law firms in the city. Mr. Arryn gave her a fond, grandfatherly smile.

"Dad, I was hoping to borrow Jon for a while. I've wanted to dance, but I wasn't keen on dealing with trampled toes."

 _And wandering hands_ , she chose not to add aloud. Despite coming from a fairly traditional family, Ned had never been the "chase boys away with a shotgun" type of father. He and Catelyn were firm but fair in their parenting, setting reasonable limits (hormones and immaturity _were_ key ingredients in teenage decision-making) without smothering or policing when it came to dating or sexuality. The only time she remembered him ever interfering was when Joffrey Lannister took to harassing her after she refused a second date (a decision she would have made even if Jon hadn't come back to the city to attend college that fall).

Ned caught the inflection to her voice and grimaced. "Actually, Sansa, I was hoping-"

"Let them dance, Ned," Jon Arryn gently interjected, "We can all talk later. I won't be changing my mind in a night."

Ned sighed softly, warily eying his daughter when Sansa gave him that smile once more. He softened instantly, "Alright. Go have some fun, kids."

As Sansa looped her arm through his and she led him away, Jon felt a familiar pang of guilt, one that grew regrettably duller as time went on. The way his uncle trusted him with Sansa, trusted him because they were family, blood… He had hated himself at one time for violating that trust, but the stronger he and Sansa grew together, the weaker his self-loathing became. He and Sansa were both adults, and shame stood no real chance between them anymore. That was just the way of it.

"Any idea what that was about?" he whispered to her as they made their way through the crowd. "With Arryn, I mean."

"My future prospects, probably," she replied, _sotto voce_. "I'm pretty sure Dad wants Mr. Arryn to mentor me."

Jon arched a brow. "You haven't told him you decided on family law yet, have you?"

She shot him a wry look as they found a place out on the dance floor. "Because you told him right away when you decided to switch from engineering to criminal justice."

"Point taken."

He bowed with a flourish, giving her a smile, and there was a confidence, a light to him that made it hard to reconcile this man with the bored, sullen figure she had encountered only moments before. His eyes reflected back her lover, the man she knew behind closed doors: confident, playful, and sensual, hidden as he was behind the mask of solemn, dutiful cousin Jon. Cousin Jon, who she was expected to think of as a second big brother; Cousin Jon, of whom she should have no real awareness of as a _man_.

She had spent so much of her life doing just what she was told, living exactly up to expectations. Considering perfection was an impossible ideal, she was due a little wriggle room for defiance. Especially when the reward was Jon.

"…beautiful, you know that?" the man in her thoughts commented softly, his eyes on her, making her realize with a blush that she'd lost herself in her thoughts.

He answered her quizzical expression with a low chuckle. "You, Sansa. You look beautiful tonight."

She smiled slightly. "Thank you." She paused, just taking a moment to gaze upon his beloved features. "Your hair's falling out of place," she commented softly, reaching up to brush away a stray lock of hair from his eyes, smoothing it back against his forehead. She sighed and crinkled her nose with exasperation as said lock of hair fell right back to where it had been.

"It does that."

"Mmm, I like it better down anyway."

He smiled and she reached out to touch him again, brushing her fingers against his cheek. Jon's expression tensed, and he gently pushed her hand away. "You shouldn't touch me like that."

Hurt flashed through blue eyes. "All I did was touch your face, Jon. Should we be expecting someone to call the police?"

He made a sound somewhere between a grunt and a growl. "Not what I meant. With the way you look in that dress, one more touch and I won't be able to restrain myself from making a spectacle."

She gave him a look, eyes now a smoky sapphire. "Oh? How good do you think your restraint is?"

He growled. "Not enough for you to push, San. Unless you think that me taking you on one of those tables is the best way to go public."

"Mmm," the sound was sensual, thoughtful, and he bit back a groan as she licked her lips.

"Sansa," he gritted out exasperatedly.

She sighed, giving him an apologetic look. "I'm sorry. It's just hard."

The hand on her hip tightened, and he stared off somewhere behind her shoulder. "I know, Sansa. I know what being with me puts you through. I can't kiss you here. I can't even dance with you properly. You deserve better than this, than me."

She cocked her head slightly, studying him thoughtfully. "Regardless of any of that, we're in this too deep, Jon. Unless you're changing your mind…?"

He shook his head, horrified she would even suggest such a thing. "Of course not."

"We've made our decision. We're in this together. No one else can decide for us."

He sighed. "You're right."

"Haven't you learned by now, love? I'm always right."

"Of course. What was I thinking?" he gave her a soulful, wide-eyed look; his version of puppy dog eyes. "Forgive me?"

She smiled at him, giggling as he spun her. "Forgiven."

As wrapped up in each other as they were, they did not notice the pair of suspicious eyes that had been watching their every move. The brooding gaze belonged to one Ned Stark, whose frown deepened the longer he watched the pair.

Jon was strong and confident as he moved elegantly with Ned's daughter in his arms, Sansa beautiful and graceful as she matched her cousin's movements, the two of them almost regal as they glided across the dance floor. It was undeniable how striking a pair they made. That didn't sit well with the attorney.

It was those small, quiet moments that Ned could see. Moments that were slowly starting to add up, that had him frowning. His grip on his wife's hand tightened and he downed his drink in a single swallow, turning back to his previous conversation with a false smile.

There were just some things he didn't want to know.

xx

It would be hours before they finally had their chance to be alone, later that night after arriving home. Rickon had to be wrestled back into bed after he'd bounced down the stairs to greet them despite Osha having put him down twice before. Catelyn and Sansa shared their weekend nighttime ritual of tea and chatting. Ned called Jon into his study for a drink and a strange, vague talk about responsibility, expectations, and how his uncle was proud of him no matter what happened. It was a nice sentiment despite his confusion.

As they said good night and Jon watched Ned disappear down the hall leading to his and Catelyn's bedroom, there was little he could do to restrain himself. He practically bounded up the stairs the moment he heard the door click.

He quietly slipped into Sansa's room, smiling softly at the sight of her. She was sitting on the edge of her bed, brushing her hair, and wearing a white cotton nightgown that hugged her curves in way that stirred both his libido and pure aesthetic appreciation. Not for the first time, he stood in complete and utter awe of how incredibly lucky he was.

It took a few moments to pull himself from his reverie, shutting the door behind him, double-checking the lock before he withdrew. He turned around at a muffled sound, perplexed to find Sansa grinning at him, struggling to keep in her laughter.

"What?"

"You. If you don't want to be caught, that's definitely not the way to do it."

Jon looked down at himself, realizing she had a point. His jacket, at least, he could remember shedding in his uncle's study, but in his eagerness, he had begun undressing before he even made it to the room. He had managed to unfasten the buttons to his waistcoat, begun unbuttoning his shirt, and abandoned his tie in parts unknown.

He gave her a small, sheepish smile, toeing off his dress shoes as his shirt and vest found a new home draped over the back of her desk chair. As he seated himself beside her, Sansa was quick to set her brush aside and maneuver herself onto his lap. She tangled her fingers through his hair, pressing an affectionate kiss to his temple as Jon leaned contently into her touch. The small gesture warmed him. It was the things normal couples took for granted that he envied them for. For all the passion he and Sansa shared, it was the small things- public kisses, holding hands, embracing for more than a few proprietary moments, and everything else he was not allowed- that he longed for the most.

Pushing the thoughts aside, he brushed his lips against her neck. "I may have been a little impatient."

She shivered at the sensation of his warm breath against her skin, turning in his lap to face him. "Guess we don't have any reason to wait anymore, then."

He ran his hands up under her gown, slowly slipping it off her body, and laid her back gently on the bed. He groaned as he realized she wasn't wearing any underwear, no barriers left between him and warm, silk-soft skin. Arousal hit him full-on, hot and hungry as his breath came faster, his groin tightened, and he gave in to the overwhelming need to touch her.

He kissed his way down her body, close to his intended destination as he reached her belly, only to be diverted when she grabbed his head, stopping him.

He looked up at her quizzically. "Later," she explained. "I want you now."

His brow furrowed with concern. "Are you sure? I don't want to hurt you."

She buried her fingers through his hair, guiding him back up. "I'm ready. Believe me, I'm ready." She looked up at him with eyes sultry with passion. "I need you inside of me."

"I need to be inside of you," he groaned. He eagerly fell over her, letting out another throaty grunt as he was met with her wetness. She wasn't bluffing. "Oh, gods, Sansa."

Sansa arched an eyebrow. "Still doubt I want you?"

He groaned. "You'll be the death of me."

She nudged his shoulder. "Condom, Jon. We almost slipped up earlier."

He blinked as he realized she was right, that in his urgency earlier that afternoon he had completely forgotten protection. He swallowed, not wanting to think of the consequences. With that thought, he grabbed at the bedside table.

Sansa giggled as he missed the drawer, nearly falling off the bed as he lost his balance. She wrapped a leg around his waist to keep him in place, her amused grin met with an exasperated look as he finally found what he had been looking for. He nibbled her neck as she took the packet from him, rolling the condom along his length. Guided to her, he finally gave them both what they needed, driving himself deep inside her.

"Yes," Sansa moaned with approval, arching against him as he thrust into her again and again, moving into her with hard, swift strokes.

No matter how many times they had, and would, come together like this, every time was as special as the last. He could never tire of making love to her. The feeling of being inside of her would never be anything short of extraordinary. Nothing had ever felt as right, felt as good, as being enveloped by the tight, silken heat of her body.

His hips continued to piston forward, Sansa arching to meet him as they crashed together again and again. All thoughts of slow and gentle had long since disappeared after nearly half a day of flirting and foreplay. All that mattered was each other- the feel, the taste, the rhythm, of the other, as they raced toward their finish.

She opened hazy eyes to meet his, locking their gazes, as he rose and fell above her. She was a livewire of sensation, blood pounding and muscles taking on a familiar quiver. Jon shifted to brace his weight against his knees and slid his hand beneath her hips, angling her pelvis up. She bit back a cry of surprise and pleasure as the new angle brought him deeper into her, hitting a spot that made all the difference.

Her world shattered into pieces, whiting out behind her eyelids. Her sex clenched around him, stealing his release with her own, and Jon shuddered and shook, emptying inside the condom with a long, low moan he couldn't quite stifle. The sound startled them both as Jon let himself fall to her side, avoiding burdening her with his weight, but there was barely a moment taken to find their breath before they were reaching for one another again.

Their passion not yet sated, arousal ebbed and flowed as he tied off and tossed away the used prophylactic. Her hand wrapped around his softened cock, stroking him, and she grasped his hair to guide his mouth back to hers, lovingly coaxing his body back to arousal. He opened up to her, to the silken slide of her tongue into his mouth, the teasing nibbles on his lips, and they parted only briefly to fetch a fresh condom. When her arms and legs wrapped around him, he buried himself back inside her.

Slowly, steadily, he rocked into her, Sansa gently swaying into him with each movement. With the way they were positioned, facing each other side-by-side, they would not achieve the friction they needed. He moved to roll her onto her back but Sansa stopped him. She shook her head, hitching her thigh up higher on his hip to hold him in place. "Not yet. I just want to feel you for a while."

Some sense of understanding began to blossom for Jon, and he followed her lead. He just let himself feel, the tension in him beginning to ease into a pleasant sort of warmth coiling in his belly, letting him relax into what came naturally. He closed his eyes, heat and rhythm translating into the gentle back and forth of their hips. _The feel of her._

He buried his face in her hair, breathing her in. _The smell of her._

He teased his lips over the sensitive place beneath her ear, earning a soft mewl of approval as he dropped heated kisses down her neck. _The sound of her._

He lifted his head and Sansa gave him a warm, languid smile, drawing him into a kiss. _The taste of her._

They parted their kiss, and eyes meeting, they moved with seamless synchronization to roll themselves over. Sansa slid onto her back, hitching her legs up to firmly hug his hips as she threw her head back in ecstasy. Jon worked himself between her legs with a sense of sweet urgency.

It was all about sensation, he mused, and the synergy he sometimes took for granted. The feeling of being ultimately _one_ with her. And it was that unity he sought now.

Sansa locked eyes with him, digging her heels into his flanks as she arched to meet him. "I'll never apologize for this," she whispered fervently. "Never."

"No apologies," he agreed as his body rolled and uncoiled with each thrust, Sansa moving with him in perfect rhythm.

This was what and who they were. They belonged this way, to each other, for each other. And they would never be sorry for taking the risk. Never. No take backs, no apologies. Just them.

Always.


End file.
